


Leather Coat

by Aquatics



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Police Uniforms, Triple Drabble, Uniform Kink, implied BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 16:40:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquatics/pseuds/Aquatics
Summary: Fun with Montoya's old uniform.
Relationships: Kate Kane/Renee Montoya
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: Osmosis Exchange





	Leather Coat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ictus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ictus/gifts).

> This came of when I googled for Gotham Police Uniform https://i.pinimg.com/originals/25/d2/d1/25d2d176f6e1ac4028712447d123e50c.jpg I hope it is correctly osmosed (?)

”I have to warn you - I haven’t worn this thing in ages.” Rene, no, _Montoya_ smiles, tugging at the sleeve of her shirt. Kate leans back in her chair, smirking at the sight of her very own officer, strapped into a smart leather coat, epaulettes making her shoulders wide, belt nipping her waist in. Her hair is tucked back in a bun, a small curl of hair falling just so from her forehead. A subtle reminder of today’s lack of duty. Kate puts her finger to her cheek.

”Montoya.”

”Yes?”

”Don’t call me ’Yes’. Call me, hmm.. Chief. Yes.”

”Yes, chief.” Montoya nods once.

”Very good. Now, get over here.”

Montoya marches in step like a fashion model on the runway, a soldier marching en parade. She stops right in front of Kane’s chair, kneeling as Kate gestures to the floor.

”Montoya. I asked you to show me what an officer of Gotham looks like.” Kate raises her eyebrow. She runs her hand over the pinned-back hair, stroking her thumb against the stray lock. ”Is this what the department considers acceptable?”

”The Gotham force does, chief.”

Kate suppresses a smile. Montoya gets away with that one, but only because the uniform suits her. She turns her attention to the thick leather shield covering Montoya’s chest; the slick black material bending in a subtle curve, marking her bosom. She presses her finger to it, slides it along the rugged seam, before pressing at a spot well-protected by little more than the fabric of a shirt and a sports bra. Montoya’s breath hitches. Her composure is impeccable. It needs to be tested, strained, completely and utterly corrupted, until it breaks and bends into delicious moans of ultimate satisfaction. 

”Montoya. You may remove the coat. Save the belt, we’re going to use it.”


End file.
